


On Rewind

by catfisher



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, Falling asleep on the phone together, First Meetings, Lust, M/M, Phone Sex, Unresolved Tension, and being idiots about it, everyone is bad at communicating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catfisher/pseuds/catfisher
Summary: Dream was a good actor. He would probably be able to pretend like nothing happened. Like they weren’t torn, tattered and undone.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 19





	On Rewind

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :) good to see you! A quick disclaimer: this is a story about real people, but everything that happens is completely fictional. This fic will be deleted, should any of the mentioned CC's voice any discomfort with this sort of thing in the future. 
> 
> Also - I felt experimental when writing this and tried a somewhat unusal structure. The story is told in reverse. It should still be understandable though (at least I hope so). If it isn't, you can always read it from the bottom to the top haha. Also also, since the beginning is the end, this first chapter is pretty angsty. So a fair warning, if your here for fluff - that is gonna be sparse. But I promise the following chapters will be lighter. 
> 
> Alright. Enough babbling from me. Enjoy!

**PM 20:21 UTC**

**FEB 28 2021**

**PLAY**

Porcelain hits the ground with an almost melodic clatter. George looks down at colorful shards littering his kitchen tiles, feeling desolate.

In an effort to revive some sort of normality, he had tried to clean up the used dishes from the bedroom, that were accumulated there over the past week. He should have went twice though, instead of trying to balance everything at once. The stack slipped away, the second he halfheartedly placed it on the overcrowded countertops. George spots the remains of his favorite cup, the blue one that his mother had bought him on from her vacation in Greece, in the middle of the mess. He should call her, they haven’t talked in a while. He wishes he had just stayed in bed. The kitchen is chilly and sweeping broken cups feels straining compared to just pressing his face into a pillow, withering away.

Cold coffee is seeping into his socks.

George bends down, collecting some of the bigger pieces. One of the cups is perfectly split into two halves. He slides them back together. When he holds them with enough pressure, the crack becomes invisible. It is strangely satisfying. But as he loosens his grip, the fraction reappears.

The doorbell is ringing, interrupting this halfhearted cleaning attempt. He drops the split cup again. The damage is irreparable anyway and that has to be his food delivery. Finally. His stomach is beginning to hurt. He hasn’t felt like cooking today and the only thing he ate since this morning, was a small sandwich from the dingy bakery next door. He really needs to change his eating habits. Maybe tomorrow.

George leaves the crime scene on the kitchen floor, as the bell rings for a second time. He doesn’t even bother switching on the light in the hall, fumbling around in the familiar darkness. There still has to be some money on the side table, he remembers putting it there earlier. Or maybe yesterday. It all starts blurring together.

 _„Coming!“_ He yells in the direction of the closed door at the third ringing. He reaches it in two quick steps, pulling it open with a frown.

„I was on my way, no need to be so impatient.“ George grunts at the delivery boy. Normally he wasn’t rude to strangers, especially not ones that had such a shitty job, having to deal with too many unfriendly people already. But he is irritable. He has been for the whole past week, ever since the fight with Dream- _… no, he wasn’t thinking about this again._

George immediately feels bad for his tone, when he sees that the delivery guy is absolutely drenched from the rainy weather outside. His clothes are dripping and long strands of blonde hair cling awkwardly to his face. No wonder he is so impatient. George would be pissed off has well, if he had to bike around in a bloody monsoon, just to bring some lazy idiot his pizza.

The guy doesn’t seem especially rueful either, blinking down at George. Also, he makes no move to get the pizza box out of his backpack. Just keeps staring. George has to strain himself not to roll his eyes. But if there is one good thing about being on camera regularly, constantly observed, than it is increased control over his facial reactions. The delivery guy clearly has learned no such lesson. He honestly looks like a staggered poodle.

As the silence stretches, George is beginning to suspect that he is a fan, or that he has at least recognized him. Which is just fantastic. The icing on top of the shitty cake, that was this day. This whole week, really. It happens more often now, people recognizing him on the street. That isn’t necessary a bad thing, it is mostly lovely and George always feels pleasantly surprised and grateful for all the people that support him and like his content. But getting recognized in his own doorway, looking deshelved and tired, wearing his most unflattering jogging pants and drenched socks — that feels a little too personal. His insides are already withering in uncomfortable knots. Trying to get the guy to snap out of his stupor and be rid of him as fast as possible, George holds up the money. It is probably way too much for what he ordered.

„Look, err … sorry, alright. Just keep the change.“ He says, trying for a polite smile. It hurt his cheeks. The guy blinks again. George feels himself cringe. He isn’t in the shape any social interactions, especially not this increasingly awkward one. „Could I have my pizza now?“ He adds, clenching his teeth.

 _Now_ the guy has the audacity to raise one of his eyebrows. As if it is _George_ who is acting weird. Irritation is starting to itch under his skin. He is about say something really rude, when the other one finally opens his mouth.

„Hello George.“ He says, with Dream’s voice.

**PM 16:12 UTC**

**FEB 27 2021**

**REWIND**

_„Did you talk to Dream?“_ Sapnap asked over Discord. _„I can’t reach him.“_ George let himself fall back into the backrest of his chair with a long sigh. His phone was resting on the desk. It had been on silent for hours.

 _„I am gonna take that as a no.“_ His friend said and George could hear the thinly veiled accusation from all the way across the Atlantic ocean. As if this whole mess was George’s doing. As if he was the bloody problem. But of course Sapnap would take Dream’s side in this, even though he hardly knew what _this_ was about. He always did, with absolutely everything. George tried not let it bother him too much. Objectively, he knew that Sapnap was his friend as well. But it was hard not feel victimized, when it always seemed to be two against one.

„Just leave it, ok?“ George replied, closing his eyes. His headache was back, slowly wandering down from his neck into his stiff shoulders. _„Leave it? I am just trying to help. You guys better get your shit together. How are we supposed to record anything, if you keep this up?“_

„Can’t I just be in a bad mood without you mothering me to death?“ George felt transparent, like a coward, like a fraud. He owed Sapnap some explanation for their behavior, but he didn’t appreciate being interrogated like this. It was exhausting enough that he always had to watch himself when they were filming.

_„Are you seriously trying to tell me that you aren’t still fighting? Do you think I am stupid? The two of you have been acting strange for the longest time. I tried to keep out of it, but this is starting to effect all of us. I mean … you were there on Wednesday? That was the worst thing I ever had to sit trough. One more bitchy comment from either of you and I would have jumped off a cliff.“_

George couldn’t help but feel a petulant spark of self-defense, combined with a weak residue of the anger at remembering their last recording session. „How was that my fault? He was the one that kept insulting me.“

 _„I didn’t say that it was your fault, alright? But I know there has been some stuff going on between you and him.“_ Sapnap said slowly, as if he was trying not to spook him. It really shouldn’t be a surprise that he had picked up on something, considering how much time the three of them spend together, but George still felt exposed.

He sighed again, pressing his knuckles against his closed eyelids, until he saw stars. The rage that had carried him through the past days was long gone, leaving nothing but a stifling void behind. Not that it was gone, he just felt empty. It was easy to be mad at Dream, easier still to be mad at himself. His anger had been strong enough to get lost in, to be consumed by it. Loneliness was worse, way worse.

„I messed it all up, Sapnap.“ It was barely more than a mumble. There was a chance his friend hadn’t even heard it. George almost hoped he didn’t. He wasn’t sure if wanted to involve him at all. But after a short moment of silence, Sapnap said: _„How?_ “

Maybe it would be good to finally admit it. Not everything of course. Just reveal parts of the pressing and pounding wound, that kept on draining him. Maybe than he could move on. Maybe Sapnap would call him an idiot for obsessing, maybe he would even laugh. Then George could laugh as well. It was a joke after all, just not a very funny one.

„We had like ... the biggest fight last weekend. By now I think that neither of us was in the right, but during it I said some stupid things. And he said. Well, it wasn’t nice either. This whole week I was still pissed. Then after my last stream, where I …“

 _„The one were you were basically silent the whole time, just failing to do a single good speedrun?“_ Sapnap intersected, trying to put a teasing tone into his voice. George mustered up a tired grin. The knot in his stomach was slowly unraveling with every word.

„Yes, that one. I was super exhausted afterwards. And I felt just so frustrated with how Dream and I had left things, that I send him a voice message and it was like … the worst thing. Now he keeps calling me, but I haven’t talked to him since. I think I just — I don’t want to hear what he will say. Maybe because I already sort of know what it will be? And I am just not ready.“

 _„For what?“_ Sapnap asked and George sighed. Until he had said that just now, George hadn’t even known himself. It felt like he was like unloading an invisible weight. George felt the truth bleed out of him.

„For him to reject me.“

**AM 03:32 UTC**

**FEB 26 2021**

George was standing in the fruit aisle, staring at a peach.

The biggest parts of its surface were still rosy and soft, shimmering in the unforgiving store lights. But he could see the patches of brown and mushy goo, their etches were spreading. He wanted to push his thumb trough the skin to look at the insides. The rot has probably already hollowed it out, eaten it up. This peach was spoiled and soon there would be nothing left of it. His cheeks still hurt from smiling too much and his eyes felt dry. Sometimes he thinks streaming with a face cam slowly wears him out. Always being observed by thousands of eyes, cataloging every expression, every stutter, every blush.

Maybe he should join them. George considered buying the peach and setting it onto his desk just to watch it decay. He mustered enough strength to roll his eyes at himself. That would be such a dramatic move. He doesn’t even now why he was thinking it, he was so unhinged and overtired lately. Hollowed out and rotten.

 _I love you._ He had said it, he had send it. His mind delirious from streaming too long, the whole day — without Dream. The words had tasted heavy on his tongue, left it reluctantly. As soon as they were out there, he wanted to grab them and shove them back. Down, down, down. For no one to hear, no one to know. Not even himself. Everything begun itching and scratching and he hadn’t been able to stay in his flat even a second longer. That’s how he found himself in the small 24/7 market across the road, overanalyzing peaches in the middle of the night.

His phone started buzzing again. It felt like its hundred pounds heavy in his back pocket. Weighing him down, pulling him away from himself and into the ground. He knows that there is only one person that would call him at this hour. He didn’t answer. Maybe this way, the rot would stop spreading.

**PM 11:43 UTC**

**FEB 25 2021**

George was blinking at the window on his desktop, telling him that his stream had ended. The flickering lights of his monitor were still dancing on the inside of his skull, a mark left by another long day on the computer. He spend the last eight hours in the company of the thousand faceless viewers, basically distracting himself with them. It probably had been the worst piece of content he has ever produced. But being observed helped him uphold the facade of nonchalance. Speed-running again and again numbed his mind and allowed him to escape into the peaceful nothingness. His commentary must have been abysmal. George wouldn’t be surprised, if the only viewers left, were actually asleep. Karl and Quackity had both shown up to entertain his stream for a while, but he had been so taciturn and grumpy that they left soon after. Dream had been noticeably absent of course. Probably a good thing, if George considered their pitiful attempt at recording a video yesterday. He didn’t really need a repeat of that in front of an live audience.

Yet something in him was disappointed. Even if all that there was left between them was vicious words, anything was better than this silence.

George turned off the light bright lights in his, dropping onto the bed in exhaustion. Even though he had barley moved all day, he felt drained. There was a buzzing in his head, making him wish for the numbness of sleep, but he knew that it would still take him hours to wind down and doze off. If everything were normal right now, he would probably be calling Dream.

They would exchange lazy laughter and quite observations. Talk in that calm tone reserved for them alone, for late night conversations. Knitting them closer together each time. George fingers were already gripping his phone, before he knew what he was doing. Opening their last conversation on autopilot, he was staring at the messages without reading them. He wanted to type something, but his eyes felt blurry and his fingers stiff. So he pushed voice recording instead.

 _„You’re being an arsehole.“_ He said into the phone. It felt good, it felt justified. _„I was breaking up with her, alright? If you could even call it that. I mean we weren’t even dating. I just didn’t want to do it over the phone, cause that is a shitty move. So I met her at a coffeeshop. And I am sorry for what happened. I mean-… I, obviously - if I had known that you would call-… I left my phone on the table, when I went to the toilet. She just picked it up. I am sorry for that. But, either way you … you had no right. Like, no right at all to be pissed at me, just because I am living my life. Even if I wasn’t breaking up with her, you still had no right. I deserve to be happy too. I deserve to … just cause you didn’t … just because you don’t want this, like, this role in my life, doesn’t mean I can’t have someone. I have been so lonely, Dream. And I- …“_ He cut himself off there, frustrated at his himself for choking, tears threatening to well up in his eyes. It was pathetic, but it also felt good to just let go. He wasn’t even angry anymore, just tired now. But maybe that was the point. He took a shaking breath, trying to steady his voice again. Tiring himself out.

 _„You had no right. And I hate that your ignoring me now. I hate how things are between us now. I know, I said some … messed up things, but you did as well. I am not apologizing - I just … I want-.. I don’t know. I don’t even know what I want anymore. Not this. I am pretty sure don’t want this. And get that you don’t feel ready to be closer to me, that this all too much or too fast or whatever. I get it. But I just … it hurts. And the worst things is, that I miss you. Because I-…just, I…“_ George took another deep breath, feeling all the resentment in his chest come loose with it. Maybe he says it to hurt Dream, maybe just to hurt himself. _„I love you.“_

He let go of the button and the message was send.

**PM 19:46 UTC**

**FEB 24 2021**

_„Oh my god, George! Can you stop messing up two seconds?“_ Dream said, sharp annoyance dripping from his tongue.

George sat in front of the Minecraft death screen, feeling his face heat up. It was a good thing the others couldn’t see it. Maybe Dreams critique wouldn’t hit him so hard, if there weren't some truth to it. Since they had started recording the challenge for Sapnaps new video twenty minutes ago, George had accidentally died five times already.

 _„Dream, come on man.“_ Sapnap intersected, but Dream just continued: _„If you keep dying, we are never going to get this recording done. I have other things to do then hang around here the whole day.“_

„Oh really?“ George felt venom rising, his face hot and his fingers jittery. „Like what Dream?“

_„I guess anything would be better than watching you fall off some cliff for the hundredth time.“_

„Stop being a dick.“ George snapped.

 _„Than stop being incompetent.“_ Dream replied.

 _„Guys!“_ Sapnap pleaded but neither of them payed any attention to him.

„God, your so bitter.“ George said, letting distain color his voice. He knew how to successfully rile the other one up. What buttons to push. As predicted, Dream spluttered incredulously.

_„What is that supposed to mean? I am just pointing out that your not putting in any effort. So don’t turn this into something personal. Just fucking focus.“_

„This already feels pretty personal to me.“ George shot back. Dreams laugh was sharp and further from amused that anything George had ever heard. _„Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. You-“_

 _„Guys!“_ Sapnap repeats this time almost screaming. „ _Time out, alright? I can’t use this footage if you are acting like this.“_ George did feel bad for Sapnap. It wasn’t his fault that Dream was being absolutely unbearable. Sapnap had no idea how horrible the timing was, for recording one of his rare videos.

 _„Maybe we should do it without George then. Probably be quicker.“_ Dream said and George tasted bile rise in the back of his throat.

„You know what?“ He tried to sound calm and cutting, but it was hard to suppress the anger. „Fine. You got it. Sorry, Sapnap. The video will be alright without me. I am sick of this anyway.“

 _„Wait-… no, George-…“_ Sapnap said, but George had already left TeamSpeak.

**PM 22:46 UTC**

**FEB 23 2021**

_Are we still on for the zombie challenge tmr?_ Sapnap posted into their group chat and Dream replied with a thumbs up, seconds later.

George skin was tingling, barley contained rage threatening to resurface. That little yellow emoticon was mocking him, feigning normalcy. Dream was a good actor. He would probably be able to pretend like nothing happened. Like they weren’t torn, tattered and undone.

With a groan he dropped his phone on the bed, rolled out of it and shuffled into his bathroom. He splashed some water onto his face, hoping for a clearer head. He had tried to distract himself with some coding earlier, but he kept messing up and the only thing that achieved was increasing the dull throbbing of his headache. Their fight was still echoing around in his head, rattling around in there like a poltergeist.

Maybe recording together with Sapnap was a good idea. When it was the three of them, George might be able to fake peace for a few hours. They had done it in the past, just acted like nothing happened. Pretending always worked out for them, whether they were ignoring an argument or something even worse. _Softer words, spoken under the curtain of the night, hushed tones, warm cheeks and wandering fingertips_ — Dream liked too exhaust boundaries in every direction. Tiptoeing along them and overstepping a little more, every time. George was in the bad habit of letting him.

 _I am done with faking it._ Wasn’t that what Dream had said? George didn’t really believe him. The next day things usually returned to normal with them. Even when teasing started to hit a little too close, nothing really changed. Pretending to be friends. Pretending to be more than that. Dream and George were good at that, at faking it. They were whatever they had be, always for the eyes of others. Adapting to the audience, their roles defined by those watching. Yesterdays had been different though. It had felt final. _We are done_ , Dream had said and there had been no teasing edge left. No rules, nothing softening the blow, leaving the careful blur usually there for all the people watching. It had only been them, stuck on their positions, bursting all the bubbles. Without pretenses and roles to flee into, it everything was too raw. George had always known that the unsaid things would surface at some point, but he never imaged it to go like this.

**AM 08:35 UTC**

**FEB 22 2021**

George was freezing in his thin pajamas, but the fresh air helped clear his sleep muddled brain. He rarely ever stepped out onto his balcony, mainly because his dead pot plants were a depressing sight. But now, with the sun slowly rising over the roof tops of London, a thin layer of frost making the whole city glitter, it was strangely beautiful here.

As if to make the moment perfect, his phone started buzzing. It showed the picture of Patches that George had saved as Dream’s caller ID. A small smile grows onto his lips. He could already feel his heart beat a little faster, as he accepted the call.

„Shouldn’t you be sleeping?“ He asked, already grinning and blinking into the morning sun.

 _„How could I?“_ Dream answered lowly and George immediately heard it, something sharp and unfamiliar in his voice. The smile sliped from his lips.

„What’s wrong?“

 _„Oh come on. Don’t play dumb with me.“_ Dream spat and it was so unnecessarily aggressive, that George flinched back a bit.

„Dream!“ He said, trying to make sense of this surprising tension. „I have literally no idea what you are talking about.“

 _„Right. Ok. Right. I forgot. There is nothing going on. Because this isn’t real? Like this whole time, we were just messing around, right?_ “ Dreams tone was dripping with humorless sarcasm, and George’s throat suddenly felt constricted. Everything had been so good these past few days. It had felt so natural and simple for a change. He tried to say something, but he didn’t even know were to start. The disappointment was already gnawing at him. George had been sure that they were finally resolving this, that Dream maybe felt the same way as him. Of course, they were taking it slow — but they were taking it _somewhere._

 _„-…but I was just joking. Thats what your always saying, isn’t it? Cause that is all I am capable off, apparently. All that I am good for?“_ Dream sounds so strange without the ever-present laughter in his voice, almost like a different person.

„Dream, no. What? I didn’t do anything.“ George answered, feeling his his palms get wet despite the chilling weather.

 _„Yes. I know. You_ didn’t do _anything. I mean, you could have at least called me back. That would have been decent. Instead you just led me sit here the whole day. You must know that I felt like crap. You-…“_

„Stop! Dream, hold on. First of all, I literally _just_ woke up. I was asleep, not ignoring you. Also I didn’t even see any missed calls. Why are you being so needy?“

 _„OH MY GOD!“_ He suddenly screamed so loud, that George almost dropped his phone. _„Fuck you, George. Fuck you.“_

„What-…“

_„You made me look like a fucking idiot. Are you happy now?“_

„Dream, please. I don’t now what your taking about, explain-…“

_„God, you are — so dumb. Because. Of. Me. Facetiming you. Yesterday.“_

George actually felt the cold crawl up into his bones now, but he couldn’t move. He just kept standing there on the windy balcony.

„I missed you facetiming me?“

 _„Yes. But don’t worry, your girlfriend picked up.“_ Dream said and then there was something heavy expaning in Georges chest, filling up the space where air used to be.

„Oh.“

_„Yeah. Oh.“_

„Look, I had no idea that you would do that. If I had-…“

_„Of course you didn’t. Clearly you wouldn’t want me and her to talk. I can’t believe that I actually thought there was something between us. That I actually fucking believed that you- … I mean, what were the past weeks? A fucking experiment to see how far you can push me?“_

„You know thats not true-…“

_„Sure, sure. Well that’s to bad for you then. It doesn't matter anyway.“_

„What is that supposed to mean?“

_„That I am done with faking it.“_

„What?! What do you mean _faking it?_ “

 _„Oh, come on now George. You know we only got here, because of the dumb pandering.“_ George could feel his face become numb. Deep down he was sure that Dream was only trying to bait him, using these insecurities against him. But it was hard not to fall for it, when every single word was already carving itself into his mind. Digging deeper and deeper, leaving only doubt were comfort should be.

„How can you even say that?“ He said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He is only doing this to hurt you, don’t fall for it. George tries to calm himself. „You are being such a hypocrite. Accusing me, when you are the one constantly playing stuff up for the camera.“

_„Yeah well, I’m done with that now.“_

„I can’t believe you are being like this, _again._ “ We were over this. We were so good. But course it couldn’t never be easy with them. _This is Dream after all,_ he thinks sourly. _Dream and his giant fucking ego._ George is sick and tired of being blamed for everything his friend refuses to deal with. Dream may know exactly what to say to cut him deeply, but George could return this favor easily.

„Are you really that insecure?“ He said, not trying to hide his contempt. „That is actually kind of pathetic, Dream.“

The reaction is imminent and vicious: _„You know what is pathetic? Dating some random girl just to reassure yourself that your straight.“_

„I am straight. Just because that doesn’t fit into your youtube narrative or whatever, doesn’t make it less true.“

_„Right. Because it is super straight literally have phone sex with your male friends.“_

„Stop! Dream, sto-..“

_„When you were begging me to fuck you? That was so straight George, incredible.“_

„Stop talking, just. Stop.“

 _„Why? It’s about time we had an honest conversation right? Isn’t that what you wanted?_ For us to figure it out together?“

The familiar phrase rung in his ears. He had been smiling when he said that. How nice it had been, a moment of fragile agreement, a slither of security. Coming from Dream now, it felt like a slap in the face.

„I never forced you to just FaceTime me.“

_„No, no — your right. That was my mistake. It won’t happen again.“_

„Dream-…“

_„Like I said. We are done.“_

„You don’t get to just decide that.“ George told him, already bracing himself.

 _„Watch me.“_ Dream said and hung up. With the line dead, the silence was deafening. Almost loud enough to drown out the sound of something shattering inside him.

**Author's Note:**

> that was it :) feel free to leave me some feedback, it always helps and brightens my day!


End file.
